


Murder by Design

by sidewinder



Category: Columbo
Genre: Gen, Trick or Treat 2017, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-25 12:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12531744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: A silent witness solves the crime.





	Murder by Design

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BigStripeyLie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigStripeyLie/gifts).



Bryce Alan Jennings, designer and stylist to the stars, newly promoted to president and CFO of Danson & Company of L.A., let out a weary sigh. “Come in, Lieutenant,” he called, having been alerted to the visitor’s presence by his secretary.

The forever-disheveled police detective stepped through the open doorway with a sheepish smile. “Thank you, Mr. Jennings. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“You always are—interrupting, that is. And yet it never seems to stop you. Now, Columbo. What is it _this_ time? I’m a busy man with a _very_ busy day ahead of me—including an afternoon fitting with Cher that I must get down to Rodeo Drive for by two o’clock.”

“Well, I’m afraid you might have to cancel that fitting, sir.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I’m here to put you under arrest.”

Jennings noticed the uniformed officer standing a few feet behind Columbo in the doorway of what had only become his new office two weeks previous. He tried to quell any outward signs of distress or panic, and with forced calm answered, “Arrest me? What on Earth for?”

“For the murder of your former boss, Roger Danson.”

Bryce burst out in a hearty, if a touch overly-dramatic, round of laughter. “Really. I thought we had it established that some random burglar killed Roger. What with the theft of his watch and wallet, and of course the very expensive jewels that had been on display from his Red Carpet designs of years’ past...”

“Yes, well, that did seem to be a logical conclusion to make, sir. You’re correct about that. Only we just discovered a witness to his murder which puts you on the scene that evening. And identifies you as the one who pulled the gun and shot him where he sat at his desk. Right where you’re sitting now.”

“A witness? That’s preposterous, I mean...”

Bryce cut himself off, but not before Columbo, of course, seemed to pick up on his train of thought. “...Because no one was here that night, except for Mr. Danson and yourself? Well, in a way you are correct, sir. But there _was_ a witness. In fact it’s still sitting here now in this room with us.”

Bryce’s eyes followed the lieutenant as he walked toward, of all things, the potted snake plant near the office windows. Bryce had been planning on tossing the damned thing out when he managed to find the time for full renovations of this office to his particular tastes. But for now, he looked at Columbo, the plant, and Columbo gazing down at the plant with a smile.

And he started to laugh again. “You _can’t_ be serious. This _plant_ is your witness?”

“That’s right, sir. This plant saw everything. Well, more accurately, it _heard_ everything.”

“You are mad, Lieutenant. What are you going to do, put the plant up on the witness stand during my trial? I cannot even believe you secured an arrest warrant on a... _ridiculous_ idea like a _plant_ witnessing a murder!”

“Well, maybe it wasn’t the plant _exactly,_ Mr. Jennings.” The lieutenant bent down and reached into the spiky nest of greenery. And then he emerged, dusting some loose soil off what appeared to be a small, carefully disguised, micro-cassette recorder. “Mr. Danson was a very cautious man, you see. Always afraid of someone stealing one of his designs, or worse, one of his clients. So he had a sound-activated recorder hidden in this plant, near his desk. Made sure to record every meeting he had—unexpected or scheduled. Including the night of his murder.” Columbo popped open the machine and pulled a cassette out of his coat pocket. “Every night, at the end of the night, he would put in a fresh tape and take the old one home for his archives. That’s how I ended up knowing to look for this right here, before you came in to work this morning. Would you like to hear what’s on it, Mr. Jennings? We could play it for you now.”

Jennings sighed, this time in defeat and despair. “No, Columbo. That’s quite all right. As I’m sure you’re aware by now, I know what must be on that tape.”

“How you were angry about his use of your design ideas without credit and proper compensation? That you considered him washed up, out of touch with today’s trends and that you were going to take over Danson & Company to run it your way? Yes, sir. I may not understand the fashion industry very well, Mr. Jennings, but I do understand what makes for a murder. Now, shall we?”

“Yes, I suppose we must.” Jennings stood and cast one last look around the office, cataloging his rapidly fading dreams of the future.

Foiled by an office plant, of all things. Not exactly the fashionable exit he’d ever imagined for himself.


End file.
